


Solace

by anovelblogwrites



Series: Cassian and Nesta One-Shots [2]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Cassian isn't technically in this but the whole thing revolves around him so, also this got a lil angstier than expected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:24:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9232994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anovelblogwrites/pseuds/anovelblogwrites
Summary: A late night conversation between the eldest Archeron sister and the High Lord of the Night Court.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is another installment in the collection of stories I'm writing about Nesta and Cassian. I just write them as I think of them/find inspiration, so they aren't in any particular order!

If there was anything that could distract Nesta, it was the stars. The way they seemed to swirl around the sky, and glitter like jewels. They were so much more beautiful here than the hazy specks she could see from her bedroom window on a rare clear night in the human world. Everything was, Nesta could admit, albeit begrudgingly. They were so close, Nesta could almost feel them shining on her face. If she stretched enough, she might be able to grab one. 

The way one might count sheep, Nesta counted the stars. Not to fall asleep, but to occupy all of the spaces in her mind, not leaving enough room for any other thoughts. She started with the brightest ones, but hardly made it past fifty when she heard the beating of wings. Every muscle tensed. 

"He told you." Nesta felt herself uncoil. It wasn't Cassian's voice, but Rhysand's. Not turning around to look at him, Nesta nodded. 

"And?" 

"I can't," she sighed, surprising herself with her honesty. 

"Why not?" His tone only conveyed mild intrigue, but when Nesta looked at him, she could see that Rhys was fighting off a frown. He was staring at the mountaintops far behind her. It hadn't taken Nesta long to realize the High Lord couldn't quite bring himself to look her in the eyes. _Feyre's eyes_. 

"Just look at yourself," she made the words sharp enough to cut through the lump building in her throat. "You've been withering away to nothing since my sister left." Rhys cringed at her words, just barely, but Nesta saw it. A few beats of silence passed. 

"And I'd be too selfish to endure it," she added, her voice quiet now. "To even risk it." 

Because that's who she is. She had learned to turn her back on the world, before it could turn its back on her. By locking herself out in the cold, she became it. But Cassian was fire made flesh. He was alight with love, crackling with compassion, scorching with unflinching courage. It was all too much. Or maybe, she just wasn't enough. 

"I used to think the same thing," Rhys said softly. Nesta's head snapped up. 

"Get out of my head," she snarled, eyes blazing. 

"You have the most impressive mental shield I have ever encountered," he paused. The corners of his mouth turned up a bit. "I could tell what you were thinking just by looking at you." 

Nesta smoothed her face into stone when she looked at him again.

"You were right." Something about the way he said it didn't allow her the satisfaction those words usually granted. The High Lord exhaled shakily, "Being separated from Feyre is tearing me apart." 

Rhys looked at Nesta with an intensity she'd never seen before. "But I could not tell you how many times Feyre--even the thought of her--held me together." 

Nesta wanted to tell him that wasn't because of any bond. It was because of Feyre herself. Her sister held her together, even when she was trying to break. She held together her family. Feyre held things together, Nesta broke them apart. Instead, she said, "I can't be that for Cassian." 

"You already are that. On Hybern--" 

" _Don't_ ," Nesta cut him off through bared teeth, her voice like shards of glass, "talk about it."

She clenched her hands into white-knuckled fists to keep them from trembling.

Rhys stared into the mountains silently, but it didn't matter. Nesta knew what he was going to say. The memory of it came in flashes. Cassian falling. Cassian reaching for her. Cassian lying in a pool of his own blood. 

Nesta took a deep breath. She angled her face to the sky, eyes searching for the brightest star.

_One..._  
Elain.  
_Two..._  
Water in her lungs.  
_Three..._  
Drowning.  
_Four..._  
Feyre.  
_Five..._  
_Six..._

"He asked for you. Whenever he was awake, he wanted to see you." 

"He thought he owed me an apology," Nesta dismissed, unsure why she bothered. While it was true, it wasn't the point Rhys was making, and she knew it. She also knew that there was something stronger than a promise tying her to Cassian. 

The bond was there. Real as an organ. Admitting it was there was not her problem. She'd felt it for a long time, she supposed. That inexplicable, yet visceral twist inside her she first felt in her old home, when Cassian vowed to protect her and her family. She felt it the night she visit him in his room, and when he told her that the last Illyrian warrior who'd lost his wings pitched himself off the mountainside. 

Her problem was not knowing what to do about it. Not knowing how to surrender herself to it. 

"You care about him." He stated it as plainly as one would comment on the weather. 

"I don't know how to care about people," she retorted immediately, but the words didn't bite the way she had intended. 

Rhys' gaze was a heavy and meaningful thing. "You went looking for Feyre. You protected Elain with all of the strength you possessed," he told her with conviction. "You know how to care about people, Nesta Archeron. What you don't know, is how to let them care about you." 

Nesta stared at her sister's mate, unsure what to do with his assessment. Of course, she wanted to tell him that he didn't know everything--High Lord or not--and he certainly didn't know her. 

But he was staring back as if he could see right through her. Perhaps he could. Which is why she had no argument at her disposal. No snide remark. So she spoke the truth, "I do. I care about him." 

Words are not the same when they only live inside someone. If there was nobody to hear them, they had little meaning. 

These words refused to exist like that any longer. They demanded to mean something. They demanded to mean everything. 

The realization was sudden and arresting: she wanted them to mean everything, too. 

"Let him do the same for you." He was nearly imploring with her. 

"I thought we agreed that was something I do not know how to do," she deflected flatly. 

To Rhys' credit, he didn't appear vexed. If anything, he seemed to be amused. "I'm sure there is someone who can teach you." 

If anyone was up to the task, it was Cassian. The only thing the commander did more fiercely than fight was love. Not to mention, he was the only person whose stubbornness matched Nesta's. The harder she pushed, the more he pulled. Even now, she could feel it: cracks in forming in the foundation of the wall she'd built around herself. Cassian waiting, steadfast, on the other side. 

Something told her he would wait forever. He could, now that Nesta's lifespan held no bounds. The idea of forever felt a little less foreboding if Cassian was part of it. She could wake up one morning in a world she no longer recognized, as long as that world also contained Cassian, picking fights with her and holding her close. Like nothing had changed, reliable as the sunrise. 

She caught herself smiling slightly at the thought, and quickly smothered it. Biting down hard on her bottom lip, before Rhys could see her grinning to herself. 

Without even knowing it, Cassian had drawn out one of her ever-elusive smiles. He could make her happy. If given the chance and the time, he could fill some of that hollowness inside her. But would he have to empty himself to do it?

"It doesn't seem fair. The teacher dedicates themselves to their pupil, who in turn acquires knowledge or a new skill." Nesta normally despised metaphors. They were tedious and a waste of time. But right now, speaking in one was easier than laying out her deepest insecurities before the High Lord of the Night Court. "But what does the teacher get?" 

Nesta was startled by Rhys' intense violet eyes locked on hers, "Everything."

Nesta turned once again to the stars. Not for a distraction, but in search of answers. As if some divine being had written them there, and if one was clever enough, they could discover all of the secrets of the universe. 

But all Nesta saw was a mess of stars, swirling and glittering above. The answer she was looking for wasn't in the sky. Not at the moment, at least. He was inside waiting for her. 

Nesta set her shoulders back determinedly, turned to Rhysand for guidance. "What do I have to do?"


End file.
